


Club Drugs

by occasional_boy_reporter



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Less explicit than you might think, M/M, Marathon Sex, Recreational Drug Use, early Vanguard, lots of care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter
Summary: Cayde and Andal try to root out the cause of a rash of bad Guardian behavior in the City and eventually come into contact with the designer recreational drug causing the stir.
Relationships: Andal Brask/Cayde-6
Comments: 14
Kudos: 61





	Club Drugs

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive the working title.  
> I had a prompt months back for Candal with aphrodisiac fic. The prompt was so tasty, I struggled to decide which direction to take it and wound up several thousand words into this version before finally switching gears and going the Calus pleasure garden route. But because I hate to throw out hours of work, here's THIS version finished for the Big WIP Wrap-Up on my Tumblr.

If there are lyrics coming from the speakers overhead, they don’t stand a chance against the crowing, laughing, boot shuffling, and cape flapping riot that is more than a hundred partiers crammed elbow to elbow in the hottest, and more importantly, least legal, club in the City. The bass pounds, overriding Cayde's most basic regulatory systems until every fuel line and electric impulse pumps and fires to the insistent beat. He wades deeper onto the dance floor, only stopping to show off for a few seconds each time another Hunter tries to catch him in one of the tight dance off circles littering the space like snares or to spin and dip the particularly drunken Titan that stumbles into his orbit. The point, Cayde reminds himself as he releases the Titan- who’s now all soft and giggly like an impossibly muscled teddy bear- is to be seen having a good time but not too good of a good time. So he drops a couple more of his sweetest moves to drop the jaw of the next dancing challenger and then has to really flex his acting muscles when he pretends not to be interested in the Warlock that slides an arm around his shoulders from behind.

“Hey,” hisses a sharp whisper in his head, “you know I can see you, right?”

And there is the real reason Cayde slips away from the narrow hand that was stroking its way up the side of his neck.

“I know I’m taken,” Cayde whispers just loud enough for the microphone embedded in his cheek to pick it up and carry the teasing lilt all the way to his hidden partner, “but nobody told all these people.”

The responding snort makes Cayde’s core hum with affection. If he turns around, Cayde is sure he’ll be able to pick out Andal on the second story balcony, probably leaning against a pillar with the same outlandishly overpriced mixed drink he bought twenty minutes ago to really sell his ‘rich playboy’ disguise. A disguise which Cayde loves and hates because Andal looks particularly spectacular in his asymetrically-tailed vest but Cayde didn’t enjoy last night when their positions were reversed and he was stuck on the balcony watching as Andal flirted with every Exo in the damn place.

“Anyone make you an offer?”

“Not for the thing we’re looking for.”

A long moment of silence follows before Andal replies with a steely, “Keep looking then.”

Followed by an almost petulant, “And don’t dip anymore Titans.”

“Aww,“ Cayde drawls in mock disappointment just to pull a little more of that rare jealousy to the surface, “not even the little ones?”

“Behave.”

“Is that an order from my Vanguard or my boyfriend?”

“Take your pick.”

Cayde snickers before starting another meandering lap of the dancefloor.

From his vantage point, Andal keeps one eye on Cayde and the other peeled for any strange activity- a thing difficult to define in a club full of pulsing lights and wild Guardians and City folk alike. Like the club, Cayde and Andal’s operation is somewhere on the edge of legitimacy. If someone wanted to get technical about it, and Andal knows his Vanguard compatriots are exactly those someones, the recent spike in designer drug use all over the City is law enforcement’s problem not the Vanguards’. Andal would be inclined to agree if it weren’t for the similar spikes in Guardian disciplinary hearings and suspensions from duty. Zavala might struggle to believe the worst of the Traveler’s best but Andal’s just cynical enough to know the brightest lights still cast shadows. The real trouble seems to be in acquiring a sample to confirm any actual behavioral altering agents. Ikora, in one of her brutaly honest moments, would say it’s stupid to fight a war armed only with the knowledge of rumors when hard truth can be found through a little bit of effort. Well, Cayde and Andal are here, making a hell of an effort night after night and all they’ve managed to unearth is a name: Satyr.

An old being of wild fun. Cayde thinks he's in the right place to find something with that name.

The moment of truth comes just as Cayde is returning a serious ogling from an Awoken at the bar with an intriguing number of piercings. Someone catches his elbow, arm-in-arm and leans heavily into his personal space with a familiarity Cayde can’t possibly justify when he cranes his neck to stare into the face of a strange Exo snuggled against his flank. Bright eyed, decked out in body contouring blacklight stickers and little else, the Exo bends Cayde's elbow to make up for their height difference and nearly shouts a single word at the Hunter.

"Bored?"

A thrill runs through him.

"Maybe?" Cayde tilts his head, not to be too conspicuous, but just enough to let the Exo know he's definitely interested.

"For you," the Exo slips something into Cayde's palm and curls the Hunter's fingers securely over it, "no charge. Find me upstairs and I'll show you how to use it?"

Cayde nods- fake agreeing to whatever necessary to not only get a sample but maybe dig deeper at the root of this thing. Despite the promise of 'no charge', there is an unexpected alternative fee when the strange Exo pinches Cayde's ass. In the space of Cayde's blinking optics and flinch of surprise, the dealer twists away into the crowd. Cayde resists the impulse to rub away the tweak and instead books it to the exit with his prize in hand.

\---

Andal meets him at the door, already buzzing with excitement. Cayde hands over the little tube and leans in for the kiss he's sure will be his reward for a successful operation but meets a halting palm instead. Andal's face does a funny little wobble- first amusement at his partner, then disappointment as he examines the plastic tube, then back to a grudging entertainment in irony.

"Cayde, this isn't a drug. It's lube."

The Exo stares at the shifting blue in his partner's palm.

"Son of a-"

\---

"Andal, I got it! For real this time!"

Silence greets Cayde's triumphant return and a quick poke around Andal's Vanguard apartment plus a scan from Sundance proves it's completely empty of man or Ghost. Cayde frowns as his carefully clenched fist flops back against his thigh. He could march upstairs to the Vanguard Hall where he's sure Andal must still be on duty but their mission isn't exactly 'by the books' and Andal probably wouldn't appreciate it if Cayde waltzed into the room and brandished some illegal club drugs that he acquired first hand. Would probably appreciate less the fact that Cayde went out to acquire said illegal club drugs alone. But after weeks of undercover ops, Cayde was more than willing to risk going out solo if it meant he could have his nights free to finally go back to the clubs he actually likes. Or, hell, just ordering in a pizza and refinishing his paint would be a welcome change at this point.

Cayde huffs at his lack of a hero’s welcome and flops on the couch which is pre-littered with a blanket and pillow. 

He's gonna have to give Andal another lecture about sleeping in bed. The insomnia gets them all but it's one thing to tuck yourself into a cliff face in the middle of the day for a power nap when you're out in the field and an entirely different thing to make up the couch in your cushy Vanguard apartment assuming you'll need to collapse at some point even though a perfectly supportive bed is less than ten steps away. Whatever. It's a battle for later.

The Exo kicks off his boots- the soft-topped, floppy-tongued kind that go with his ridiculous party kid disguise- and examines the short vial in his hand. Sundance also hovers close and gives it a few cautionary sweeps of the ol' all-purpose scanner.

The stuff is enticingly luminescent- bright pink with a silver shimmer. Closer inspection reveals the silver shimmer is moving of its own volition. 

Cayde hums and shakes the vial to see if he can rile up the silver cloud. "Maybe nano tech?"

"Definitely nano tech," Sundance agrees.

This time Cayde is 99.9% sure this is the designer substance they're looking for because, not only is it NOT a tube of common lube, it cost him about a month's worth of patrol wages. Which he hopes to Light Andal plans on reimbursing him for. 

"Suppose you just eat it?"

"Don't."

"I didn't say I was gonna!"

"I'm in your head, Cayde. I know what you're thinking."

"Well, then you know I'm thinking the quickest way to find out exactly what this does is to take it."

“You admit you were gonna!” Sundance already knows she has lost but she tries anyway. "Pleeeease don't."

"The worst it could do is kill me right?"

Sundance sighs.

"First hand knowledge is the best knowledge," Cayde quips as he thumbs out the stopper. "Cheers!"

He knocks down about half of it, figuring that ought to be enough to see what has a frightening percentage of Exos in the City skipping duty and acting dodgy but still leave enough of a sample for somebody to do some reverse science thing later.

Cayde wasn't expecting a strong strawberry taste. He eyes the vial again but he's still pretty sure it's not lube.

"Well?"

Cayde shrugs even though Sundance can undoubtedly feel the 'meh' coming from her Guardian.

Nothing happens for a long time until there's maybe a tiny tingling at the back of his throat. He tries not to think about nanobots and what the hell they might be doing back there.

"It, uh, well now it feels like regret."

Cayde tries to wash away the weird tingling that turns to full-on burning sensation with a manual release of oral fluid but his throat seizes and he more chokes on it instead.

"Cayde!" 

The Exo holds out one calming hand as the other collects the faux spit dripping from his chin. It's not like it would have killed him but it is a little embarrassing to have the excess fluid bubbling out his mouth like some feral animal.

"I'm ok," he tries to say around his mouth of spit but his whole body locks in a very unsettling way, strut by strut and system by system before they all blink back into hyper activity in a cavalcade of bodily activity that Cayde most certainly did not ask for.

"I felt that!" Sundance's upper nib scrunches forward in a frown.

Cayde is still twitching through what feels like a forced minor reboot when everything around him is suddenly so much more. Like some serious third eye shit, the entire room becomes overwhelming in its details- he can hear the whisper of the wind outside heavily enforced windows, can see the millimeter of wear on the floorboards in the most traversed paths. He can smell Andal as if he's got his whole damn face shoved against the man's neck. Cayde even looks to the door but Andal's not there. It's still just him and Sundance and, boy howdy, he would fucking know because he's pretty sure he would know if a fly so much as buzzed in an air duct.

"I think I've gone Super Exo mode or something."

"That's not a thing...is it?"

As crazy distracting as everything in the apartment might be- the damn ice machine in the fridge that sounds like an avalanche, the way the overhead light isn't quite the same color as the table lamp- it's the smell of Andal that keeps demanding Cayde's attention. He would not even say he has a particularly keen sense of smell most days but now his brain is full of the fancy lavender and chamomile soap Andal pretends not to love, the leather conditioner, the faintest hint of salty sweat. Belatedly, Cayde realizes he's still sitting on Andal's sheets. He leans down to sniff them, just to test the source, and his insides hurt so sharply that he thinks he may have ruptured something. His cock deploys and swells to max capacity against the parachute pants of his disguise without so much as a nod of approval.

"Nope," Cayde grits out with a little bit of a wretched whine for punctuation. "Not enhancement. Not Super Exo. It's an- oh shit!"

"A nano-induced aphrodisiac," Sundance deadpans. "Yeah, I get it. You want me to get someone up here to put you out of your misery? Or would you rather have a moment of privacy?"

Cayde waves her away with wooden thanks and she floats off to another room still grumbling about the idiot she picked to be bound to forever.

No shame in jerking off to the smell of your boyfriend's sheets. Right? That's a thing Cayde might have done on a normal day. So Cayde hardly thinks anything of it when he brings the sheets up to his face, fists his cock, and rubs out an embarrassingly quick one that leaves a ringing in his head and a couple errant pixels in his vision. Well, sometimes those things happen too. The problem really only starts after that when all Cayde’s systems trip again in repeat of their earlier performance starting with the well of spit that floods Cayde’s mouth as he tries to demand, “What the fuck?”

\---

To the best of his knowledge, Cayde's been at it for almost an hour when Andal finally bursts into his own apartment and almost knocks the door from its hinges.

"Sundance said it was an emergency!"

Cayde groans miserably from his place on the couch but manages to croak out. "Good girl."

Sundance spins sharply toward Andal and simply says, "He's your problem now!"

A pointy ball of fury, Sundance zips right past the Hunter Vanguard and out into the hall.

"Cayde, what happened?" Andal’s concern is so very sweet and genuine and Cayde curls into himself so Andal can’t see the way Cayde’s perpetually hard dick twitches and leaks when the human’s hand lands soothingly on the Exo’s back.

Sundance could have stuck around just long enough to help with the explanation. Explained the findings of her scan somewhere after Cayde's fifth terrible orgasm. That the nanobots seem to be burning off or nullifying little by little with each subsequent orgasm while the remaining soldiers prime the Exo's body for the next round. Because that's both hot and twisted and probably how Cayde would have designed it if he were into creating designer dick drugs. 

Instead of all that from Sundance, Cayde has to tip his head back to swallow the newest round of oral lubricant before he can gasp, "Found the stuff. Took the stuff. Stuff is kicking my ass."

Man, oh man, Andal Brask has a handsome face. And right about now, Cayde can hear every soft stretch of skin and stuttering inhale as that handsome face does some truly impressive tumbling through emotions.

When Andal exhales a resigned little puff of air, it hits Cayde and the tiny change in air pressure and heat sends Cayde into another gut-punching orgasm that still lingers as Andal says, “I think you found the right stuff.”

\---

A hand job is the first dual-attempted remedy. Cayde digs fingers tightly into the cushion behind him as he sprays two hot pulses over Andal’s hand. His dick remains as fat and rigid as it has in the wake of all previous attempts. Concern is not a strong enough word for what Cayde feels when his throat clicks again and slick oozes out the side of his mouth as he growls in frustration. 

Andal, Light preserve him, tries again and flushes from the neck up when Cayde spills and almost immediately begins to whimper through a new wave of lubricant.

"It's ok. We'll get you through this."

\---

They fuck like they’re checking off targets on a strike list. Fingers, cocks, holes, and mouths in every conceivable combination seem to make no difference.

For all his thoroughness, Andal has achieved a couple of his own orgasms but he is running out of steam as well as parts that can withstand further activity. There are still tears in the corner of his eyes when he lets Cayde’s dick fall out of his mouth for the third or fourth time and he wipes at shiny and puffed lips before Andal rasps, “Should I go find help?”

Cayde quakes beneath him, joints locking and unlocking, half hanging off the couch with an arm slung across his eyes in mortification. “I...think it might be getting better.”

That or his body is running out of lubricant in every available tank. When his throat clicks in the reset, he barely has to swallow anything down anymore.

“Should we keep going?”

There’s a healthy bit of reluctance in the question. Cayde chances a quick glance at his partner- face beet red, hair wild, lips almost bruised, a full-body sheen of sweat, the sagging shoulders. The sight would get Cayde revved up if he wasn't already pedal to the metal. But, honestly, who are they going to go to? The Speaker? Hell no. Some poor Exo repair specialist in the City? Another Exo Guardian? Ok, well that's maybe the least embarrassing option and Cayde suddenly wishes Saint-14 was still in the City. Saint liked Andal and would probably try to be helpful. Then again, Cayde could never come back to the Tower again if he had to hear that thick accent say something like "I hear you have cock trouble, friend".

"You…" 

The Traveler is going to strike Cayde dead some day for all the dumb decisions he's made in his life and Cayde hopes that Andal is there to laugh when it happens. It's the least the man deserves.

"...you have toys right?"

\---

"Want me to…" Andal nods to his discarded armor and the handcannon that rests with it. They have cycled through both the humor and the horror of the situation so Cayde is not insulted in the least by the suggestion.

"We should probably test the limits?" Cayde puffs around the sleeve bouncing over his sloppy cock. "For research."

"And if your dick falls off?"

Cayde hates that his body chooses that moment to pump the sleeve with glowing spunk and lock in a tight arch.

The Exo's voice glitches and pops before coming back slowly. "You can help me pick out a new one."

\---

The realization is a stuttering thing. Andal plunges a textured dildo in and out of Cayde's hole like lives depend on it and, somewhere between Andal switching out cramping hands, Cayde realizes his vision has gone fuzzy. Or rather, he can no longer count the individual threads of the sheets wadded around them on the livingroom floor. Which is to say, Cayde's vision has returned to normal pre-nanobot overdrive levels.

Cayde pushes up into his knees in shock and then howls at the sudden change of angle as the toy slams inside him. Andal scrambles behind him in something of a panic having mentally checked out for a moment and not anticipating a rapid shift. This time Cayde comes and he knows it is the last time. There's hardly any juice left in the tank so for all he arches and screams and scrambles to clutch Andal behind him, Cayde only dripples over their sex nest of ruined bedclothes. It's like his entire life force drains out of his dick in the last bubbling reserves. He collapses immediately into the mess below and a very startled Andal follows him rumbling concerned questions Cayde can barely hear.

This time when Cayde locks up and trips all systems, they stay off in an emergency shutdown.

\---

When Cayde regains conciousness, he finds himself on his back, limbs sprawled as if he were dumped that way, atop Andal's seldomly used bed. A single hands pets the side of his face in a heavy, halting way that screams of exhaustion. He catches those flagging fingers in his and turns Andal's palm for a thankful and apologetic kiss. The human startles, jerks out of a half daze against the headboard, and rubs his eyes with finger and thumb before finally offering Cayde a pointed look. Andal is clean and relaxed, hair down and still wet in places after a shower, lips only still a little swollen to remind them of the fevered fucking before.

In his best impression of the 'Suffering Osiris' voice they both used to tease with after particularly ill-advised stunts, Andal gruffly asks, "Did we at least learn something?"

Cayde wheezes more than laughs. Andal does grace him with the tiniest smile before he leans over, checks the time and jots something down on a notebook resting on the side table.

"Patient notes." Andal waggles the book so Cayde can barely glimpse phrases like 'increased sexual appetite', 'no recollection of self-preservation standards', and 'extended recovery period post nanobot purge'. "Sundance came to check up on you while you were out. She says you owe her a trip down to that Ghost rec center that just opened up."

Cayde nods. A pittance for whatever embarrassment or anxiety he might have caused her. "What do I owe you?"

"How about a promise that you won't take weird body or mind-altering substances while I'm at work?"

"It was for science," Cayde grumbles into Andal's thigh. "But also, yeah, never again."

"Could use a professional couch cleaning and some new sheets too," Andal stretches the addendum around an almost painfully huge yawn.

Cayde curls into his boyfriend's side. There's honestly a little relief knowing Andal isn't just going to chuck Cayde out onto the street with his poor, filthy couch. Cayde feels just comfortable enough in that love that he can press his luck. "I should probably stay here in case there are any side effects to report. And, in the morning, maybe you can help me make sure I didn't suffer any lasting damage in the, ahem, inflicted systems."

Andal hums as if considering then nods in sporting affirmative as he snuggles down next to Cayde and wraps an arm around the Exo. "Any report worth making should be painstakingly researched first."


End file.
